Monday, June 5, 2006

Take the Boot

There’s something I need to tell you about your mother: she ain’t so innocent after all. I heard what she said. I saw what she did. And when she thought you weren’t looking, she slipped me a note: I won’t stand for what you’re doing.

She knows what I’m about. But she has her own agenda as well. I know she’s good at calling your bluff, but will she stand up to me calling hers? My agenda isn’t harming anybody. I know what she’s all about. And if she thinks I’m going to stand around and watch her get her way, she’s got another think coming. I won’t let her hurt you again.

Sure, she gave you life. But since then she’s been sucking the life out of you. You can barely think for yourself. You have no self-respect. No dignity. You cower around her like a beat dog, barely lifting your head when she’s around. You’ve been trained to take the boot, trained not to talk back. But I’m here for you now. You don’t have to take it anymore.

Even if this arrangement doesn’t work out in the long run, at least you’re away from her. Here you can be yourself with nobody telling you what to do. Because I love you and wish you were my own. Not hers. And here you’re safe with me.